Come Find Me
by LittleDarlingXOX
Summary: His only presence in the house was half smoked cigarettes on the window sills and a constant feeling of dread in Bruce's chest. Bruce should have been relieved when he got the call, but he wasn't when Jason plead, "Please come get me."
1. Chapter 1

Bruce loosed his tie and then, right after that, his belt buckle. He sighed, leaning back in his chair already feeling that heaviness that always overcomes a person after a giant Thanksgiving dinner. In the living room Bruce could hear that Dick, Tim, and Damien had turned the TV onto a football game and knew if he went over there he'd see them hunkered down with slices of pumpkin pie, staring intently at the screen. From a side hallway Alfred emerged, carrying an empty plate with the residue of grease and turkey gravy.

"I hope you weren't feeding that to Titus, Alfred." Bruce joked. "Damian spoils that dog enough as it is."

"Not quite, Sir." Alfred cast a pointed glance down at the untouched table setting left on the table, napkin still lying neatly folded on top of the plate. "It seems all of our young masters are having a filling Thanksgiving dinner tonight."

Bruce rose out of his seat, eyes gravitating towards the hallway Alfred had just come from. "You mean—"

"When I left him he was devouring a turkey leg. I doubt he's left yet."

Bruce raced down the hall, only barely aware of Dick's questioning call from behind him. The change in temperature and the smell of cigarette smoke told Bruce all he needed to know before he even saw Jason nestled on the window ledge, Tupperware container balanced in his lap.

"Jason."

Jason looked up sharply from the turkey leg he'd been going to town on. He promptly dropped the leg back into the container and wiped the grease off his mouth with the back of his hand. He stared at Bruce taking a moment to inhale another breath of smoke before finally answering him.

"I'd say this wasn't what it looks like, but..." Jason shrugged.

He flashed one of those toothy grins that he seemed to hold in reserve just for Bruce. Though, Bruce barely ever saw him nowadays so it was almost impossible to tell. Still, Bruce liked to imagine that there was a part of Jason that remembered how Bruce would do anything to make his second son smile.

Jason's eyed him up and down, stopping with a smirk at Bruce's loosened belt buckle.

"Better watch it there, old man, or the Batsuit won't zip up."

Bruce stared out the window behind Jason where the smallest flurry of snowflakes was starting up again, adding to the couple of inches already covering the ground. "Come inside, Jason? It's freezing out there and I'm sure Dick and Tim would love to—"

Jason cut him off with a wave of his hand. Cigarette smoke floating out the window behind him with the gesture. "Come on, Bruce. We both know they don't want to see me anymore than I want to see them. It's the holidays, let's not make things uncomfortable."

"Jason, don't say that— please just—"

"No, really it's cool." Jason snapped the lid closed on the Tupperware container and slide off the sill into the snow. His boots crunched in the icy whiteness as he shuttled his feet. "I should head out anyway."

Bruce knew that family situations were a touchy issue with Jason. He remembered Alfred telling him to lead Jason into it slowly, not to come on too strong, but he couldn't stand having Jason alive and not have him in his life. How was he supposed to let Jason leave when he was standing right in front of him? When he was close enough for Bruce to pull him into his arms...

"I know you want to come in." Bruce gestured behind him. "Why don't you just—"

"No, I don't." Jason said, automatically refusing anything Bruce assumed. It was probably second nature by now. Jason never was one to let Bruce get his way.

Bruce grunted, his patience snapping. Forget what Alfred said. There was no sane way to reason with Jason. "Why can't you just admit—"

"You know what? This was a mistake." Jason flicked his unfinished cigarette onto the sill and turned away from the window. He yanked his hood up over his head to block out the snowfall.

Jason threw his hands up in the air and called out over his shoulder. "Don't flatter yourself, Bruce. I just came here because Boston Market was too depressing. I don't need you or this family, so stop treating me like your lost sheep."

He faded into the snowy, blackness and Bruce debated throwing on a coat and following after him, but knew it would do no good. That anxious feeling Bruce held within himself whenever he thought about Jason out there on his own had dissipated a bit after seeing him tonight, but he knew it wouldn't take long for it to rise again. Bruce brushed off the cigarette and watched it burn a hole into the snow before fizzling out.

* * *

It was a few months later when he got the call.

"Bruce?" The voice was hard to identify at first, shaky and full of unsaid emotions, definitely not sharp and bitter as it had been the last time he'd said his name. But Bruce knew it all the same.

"Jason?" Asked Bruce. Upon hearing the name, Dick stopped so suddenly in his sparring session with Tim that Tim's roundhouse kick hit its mark. Dick absorbed the impact like it was only a minor distraction, eyes still fixed on Bruce.

"Hang on." He spoke distractedly to Tim and made his way over to Bruce.

"Jason?" he asked, teeth worrying his bottom lip. Sometimes Bruce forgot that Dick missed Jason just as much as he did. "Is that—"

"Shh," Bruce shushed him for Jason seems to be whispering is a rushed, hiccuping, manner that unsettled Bruce to his core even though he couldn't understand any of the words being spoken.

"Jason what's wrong? Speak clearly." Bruce used his Batman voice and it seemed to trigger something in Jason for he took a raspy sounding breath and started again.

"I was shutting down a human trafficking ring but— but things didn't go as planned. I got the women out before going after the traffickers but I didn't know there were kids there. _Little kids_ , Bruce! I went back in and— and _they were just lying there on the floor._ "

Bruce's chest constricted at the picture Jason painted in his head. "It okay, Jason. You didn't do anything wro-"

" _Please come get me_." It was whispered so softly that Bruce thought he must have imagined it at first. But no, Dick had picked up the other phone in the cave and had been listening in on their conversation. His oldest son's stricken expression was all the confirmation Bruce needed.

Bruce turned towards the batcomputer. "I'm coming, Jason. Tell me where you are."

"Kremenchuk, Ukraine."

"Can you give me a street name, Jason?" Bruce pushed.

"I— _no_ , I don't remember— I—" He sounded so confused that it tore at Bruce's heart.

"That's alright, Jason. I can track this call, I just need you to stay on the line with me."

Bruce gestured insistently at Dick who started honing in on the signal. After that was the hustle of loading up the Batwing and the long flight across the Atlantic Ocean where Bruce had nothing to distract his mind from thinking of Jason. Was he alright? Was he safe?

He was alive. But that just made the scene in front of him so much more painful for Bruce. Jason sat in the field behind a warehouse with his knees pulled up against his chest, covered in dirt and blood. Around him were the freshly dug graves, and they were too small to be for anything but children.

Bruce picked his way through the torn up field and crouched down in front of Jason. He rubbed at Jason's back. At his touch Jason lifted his head out of his arms just enough for Bruce to see the trail marks of fresh tears before he dropped his face back into his hands.

Bruce planted himself down next to Jason, his hand never once leaving him, continuing to sooth him as best as he knew how. "It's okay, Jason. I'm here."


	2. Chapter 2

The door slid closed with a click as Bruce was writing an email to Lucius Fox. Bruce continued typing, not taking his eyes away from his computer screen.

"Alright, I've been patient, but now we need to talk about Jason. He's definitely not himself.."

Dick's appearance in his study and his comment upon enter weren't particularly surprising to Bruce. His oldest son had been giving him meaningful looks over the past week and Bruce had expected this conversation to come up sooner or later.

Bruce closed his laptop on his desk and looked up to address Dick who was standing before him, palms planted on the flat surface on the desk and his expression concerned.

"Oh course he isn't acting himself. It's to be expected after what he's been through." replied Bruce.

"It's been two weeks since he agreed to come back to the manor and all he's done is shut himself in his room or lay on the couch in the library staring blankly at the ceiling."

Bruce shrugged. "We told him not to go in the cave incase he couldn't restrain himself from hunting down the men from that trafficking ring and finish the job. So far he's hasn't broken that rule."

Dick threw his hands up in the air. "Yes, we said no cave, but he won't even patrol with us!"

"Perhaps he feels he isn't ready to go out again as the Red Hood after what happened. He has the deaths of multiple children on his conscience and he'll need time to work through that. For now, I think we should just be glad that he's not hurting anyone."

Over Dick's shoulder, Bruce saw Tim slip into the room, a stack of Wayne Enterprises files stacked in his arms.

Dick continued on without acknowledging him. "Hasn't hurt anyone? Just yesterday I witnessed him hurl Damian over the couch for disturbing him. The table broke his fall and Alfred had to give him stitches."

Tim snorted from the corner. He continued putting the files back into the cabinet as he called over his shoulder, "You make it sound like Damian is the victim in all of this. Apparently he thought it was okay to taunt Jason with the memory of those dead kids. Making any progress in those empathy lessons, Dick?"

Dick sighed and rubbed at his brow. Bruce had a feeling that that part hadn't been mentioned to Dick. "Excuse me. I need to go have a word with Damian."

Dick moved towards the door but paused to level a finger at Bruce from the doorway. "This conversation isn't over."

When he was gone Bruce felt the need to release a sigh, but didn't get the chance as Tim spoke up from the corner as he twirled a glass paperweight around on a side table.

"He's right you know. Jason isn't going to get better on his own. Why do you think Damien risked cracking his head open on that table? Even he can see that Jason isn't bouncing back. He knows that Jason can be ruled by his anger most of the time and he was hoping if he got a rise out of Jason it might knock him back into his usual self."

Sometimes Bruce forgot how observant Tim was, lurking in the corners of the manor like a fly on the wall watching them all. In all honesty, most of them forgot about it… all of them except Jason, Bruce amended. Jason had been Tim's Robin… the one he looked up to and Jason never forgot the little boy who used to follow him around the alleyways of Gotham with his polaroid camera.

"You let me worry about Jason. Now, don't you have something better to do, like homework?"

Tim stopped twirling the paperweight in circles and flashed Bruce a smile. He walked towards the exit, knowing that Bruce was asking him for some privacy more than he was dismissing him. "C'mon, Bruce. I finished that hours ago. Why do you think I was going over W.E. files?"

Bruce shook his head as his third son left him in peace. "I need to find more _advanced_ advanced placement courses for that boy or he's going to be running my company by himself the next time I blink."

Bruce stayed in his office longer that was necessary for the work he had to accomplish, but he needed the time to ponder over Jason's situation and what he could do to help him. Finally, when the sun was starting to set through the windows behind him and the room had grown dimmer than before, the semblance of an idea had formed in Bruce's head. He abandoned his study and walked quietly down the halls of Wayne Manor until he came to the library.

Jason's prone form was visible on the couch only by the dwindling fire that cast the dark room in an orange glow. At first Bruce thought his son was asleep, but at the sound of Bruce's form shifting in the doorway, Jason's body uncurled, his face turning towards the door.

"Al?" murmured Jason.

"Bruce." he corrected and moved further into the room.

"Oh, hey." Jason sat up as Bruce approached him and shifted over to make room for him on the couch. "I expected you to be having a quick dinner with the rest of them before suiting up."

"I could say the same for you."

Jason shook his head, his fingers running through his dark hair. "I don't need to eat quick. I don't plan on patrolling tonight. Besides, I'm not hungry."

Bruce nodded. Making Jason eat three meals a day was starting to become a battle of wills. A battle that Bruce and Alfred were slowly losing at, but Alfred wasn't one to give up easily. Bruce knew that Alfred would draw it out as long as needed until he won out.

"So?" asked Jason. "Why aren't you suiting up tonight."

Bruce tried to keep his tone casual as he responded. "The Batman suit undergoing some restructuring tonight."

Jason took a moment to process that information and the smile was slow to form on his face that by the time it was fully there he could barely get his words out around his laughter. "I told you if you didn't watch out it wouldn't zip up, Old Man."

Bruce's face flushed, but he opted to say nothing. It had been far too long since he'd seen Jason smile, let alone laugh. What was a little shame if it gave his son some happiness?

"I was wondering if you'd like to come out with me tomorrow? Maybe get some lunch?"

Jason shrugged a shoulder. "Sure, I guess."

"Good." Bruce patted him on the leg and left him to refit his suit.

* * *

The next day, Bruce and Jason slid into the backseat of the car and headed away from the manor. Alfred sat in the front with the partition down as he drove, making easy conversation with them about a new baking supply store that had just opened downtown. They were offering instructed classes, some of which Alfred expressed interest in trying out if he could be granted the day off. Bruce agreed immediately, eyes on Jason who was nodding along with the conversation but did not seem to be absorbing any of it as his eyes skimmed the buildings passing by outside the window.

"Here we are." Alfred announced as he pulled up at the curb beside a long gray brick building.

"Here?" Jason asked, glaring between the sign on the front of the building and Bruce, sounding a first confused and then betrayed.

"No. You said lunch. _This—_ " He gestured sharply with his hand. "is not lunch."

"Wayne Enterprises has worked with Gotham City's orphanages since early on in its inception. Every once in awhile I like to visit one of them and see how it is running. And they do provide us with lunch."

"This was a really shit move, Bruce. You know I was really trying for you… I came back to the manor and I've tried to interact with the rest of you and all I asked for in return was that you didn't force anything on me."

"I know you did, but I firmly believe that this will be good for you." replied Bruce.

Jason crossed his arms and stared hard at the floor. Bruce unbuckled himself from his seat and slide across the bench seat until he could rest his hand on Jason's shoulder. He gave it a tender squeeze, eyes flickering over to Alfred. Without saying a word, Alfred slid the partition up, giving them some much needed privacy.

"I know that this isn't easy for you… what you're feeling inside. I can't promise you that it is going to ever go away completely, but I can tell you how to lessen that weight inside your chest for just a little bit. You see, right now you're head and your heart are at war with each other. Your head knows that on that day you did nothing wrong. You saved those women and if you had known there were children hidden in there, you would have done your very best to save them as well. But your heart, your heart remembers when you found those children on the ground. It remembers burying them. It's berating you for not knowing and not doing anything. Sometimes the only way to make that pain go away is to help someone else… to make another child's life a little bit better in any way you can. And just maybe it'll remind your heart that you _are_ trying."

Jason's firmly crossed arms slackened briefly as he rubbed at the moisture that collected on his lashes. A sniffle broke the silence before his voice came, low and full of trepidation. "What— what if I can't? I feel like something is wrong with me… like I can't possibly do anything but harm people. Every time I've ever tried to help someone in my life it's backfired on me. What if all I can do is hurt people? Maybe I should just stop trying…"

Bruce squeezed his shoulder tightly, passing off a bit of his strength if Jason was willing to take it. "I don't believe that, Jason. You have a good heart and a strength like nothing I've seen in anyone before. All of that comes from the fact that you want to help people. So, please… give it a try for me?"

There was a long pause before Jason nodded reluctantly and pushed open the car door. Bruce slid out of the car after him and ushered him inside when Jason stood warily in front of the door.

"Mr. Wayne!" Exclaimed a man dressed in khaki pants and a polo shirt with the orphanages' insignia on it. He came forward to meet them in front of the door, shooing along a group of little boys as they ran across the foyer. "I'm so excited that you decided to visit our establishment today. Ah— I did not know you would be bringing company."

Bruce smiled and placed his hand on Jason's arm. "This is an employee of mine. When he heard that I was visiting here he asked to join me. You wouldn't mind if he helped out some of the attendants with the children while we're looking at the books, do you?"

The man beamed. "Of course not! We're always happy for extra hands. After all, we have a lot of kids to manage here. Right now they're in the reading room. Down the hall, first door on your left."

Jason started off, it albeit reluctantly, casting a worried glance once behind him at Bruce before he turned the corner. Bruce was drawn into the main office where discussions concerning funding and accounts took up much of the hour. It wasn't long after that when lunch was called and Bruce followed the previously stated instructions to the reading room to fetch Jason.

The door to the room was open and Bruce could pick up the sound of Jason's deep voice before he caught sight of him, sitting cross-legged surround by a group of children, a book perched in his lap as he read to him. It was a familiar book, _The Phantom Tollbooth_ , one Bruce remembered Damian having to read for school. He smiled, remembering the way Damian had complained at it's simplicity.

Bruce watched as Jason turned a page and continued to read. "'Have you ever heard the wonderful silence just before the dawn?' she inquired. 'Or the quiet and calm just as a storm ends? Or perhaps you know the silence when you haven't the answer to a question you've been asked, or the hush of a country road at night, or the expectant pause in a roomful of people when a person is just about to speak, or most beautiful of all, the moment after the door closes and you're all alone in the whole house? Each one is different, you know, and all very beautiful, if you listen carefully.'"

Bruce decided he would wait a little while longer before he called Jason away. This was progress, Bruce could tell. Progress, slow for sure and no doubt to be full of unforeseen obstacles, but Bruce did not was to disturb it all the same.


End file.
